1812
by galileos-telescope
Summary: Canada feels forgotten once again by his brother, so he decides to give his brother a little "poke" to his memory, by bringing up the past.


America laughed, "Today's fit for a hero! Perfect, too, seeing as it's my birthday!"

Of course. He'd be so self absorbed in the date, that of July fourth, to realise that Canada had been forgotten on his birthday just three days earlier.

I forgot to mention, I'm Canada. I'm sick of being forgotten about by everyone, and

beaten up by everyone who thinks I'm America. I really don't enjoy it, I'll let you know that. I think my dear brother needs a little reminder of the past. A little thing called the War of 1812.

I wandered away from my brother's side, listening to him try and figure out where I was going. I'm surprised he didn't think that I wouldn't be the least bit offended by him forgetting my birthday again. He was going to pay.

I entered the World Conference building, and tried to remember where America's room was. He always had a model of the White House in there, to brag about his history during meetings. It got way too annoying. He needs to grow up.

I walked into his room, and smiled, staring at the mini White House. I pulled out two lighters. One, I snapped in half, and poured the contents over as much of the mini White House as I could. The second, I lit the White House with. I smiled as the mini model went up in flames. That should teach him not to forget. Not to forget he has a brother, or that his brother's birthday is just three days before his. Yeah, I'd teach him that, with a simple "blast from the past", you could call it. He'd remember because of this. Remind him who I am, and that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, so he should remember certain things. Certain things such as my birthday.

I left the room, the miniature White House still flaming. My older, not-that-wise brother should notice soon. He's good at noticing things that involve him. I stopped inside the door, just before stepping outside to where America is. Hmm... I feel like being a bit of a catalyst today. Let's speed up the process, shall we?

I got into character. A little panicked, and a little frantic. That should do it.

I ran out the door, a look of panic (which I guess was pretty convincing, because everyone looked around when I called out, my voice shaking). America looked at me curiously.

"America-san!" I called. What a sucker, he hung on my every word, as I continued. "There's something happening! There's a fire in your room!"

He looked at me like I was crazy. "A fire? In my room? How?"

"Like I know! I just walked by it on my way to my room, and smelled smoke! I panicked, and came looking for you!" I was almost in tears, with the fake panic that was just pulling my brother more and more into my trap.

As a little side note, to clarify, I'm not as "innocent" as I seem. Yes, I'm shy, and maybe, a little similar to my brother. You could say I'm kind of like Russia inside when it comes to _dear, can-do-no-wrong _America. Yes, my Southern older brother brings out the worst in me. You could say it was all the things I've gotten into trouble because of him. Need I remember when Cuba began to beat me up, because he thought I was America? Or when I wore a "Hawaiian" shirt, and got attacked _again?_ But, I'm getting off topic. The main thing is, America makes me so mad, I kind of... lose my cool.

Anyway, I followed my brother into the building, as the fire alarm wailed throughout the halls. Switzerland was complaining, because the fire alarm was getting on his nerves. I got scared when I heard him threaten to shoot the person who set it off. I ran past Greece when I wish I hadn't. He wasn't wearing anything, but he was just about to cover himself in a robe. Ugh, why did I have to look at that very moment? I don't want that image in my mind. I'm straight, for God's sake!

America threw his bedroom door open, and yelled. "SOMEONE BURNED MY WHITE HOUSE! WHO THE HELL DID THIS?"

I, naturally being "innocent", looked at him, and said. "Brother... how're you going to catch the one who did this? This was a cruel joke."

He looked at me, while he tossed water on his miniature. It went out pretty quickly. I should have tossed another lighter's worth of ignition fluid on it. But, that didn't matter, because obviously, he was pissed off. "Well... I already have some suspects in my mind. People who don't think I'm as awesome as, well, I am. People like England, Russia, Cuba, Germany... and wait a second. You were inside when this happened, right? That makes you a suspect. That doesn't make any sense, you wouldn't hurt a fly, and definitely not again. 1812 was enough. We 'forgave' each other after that."

Close call! Way too close! What if he figures it out that it was really me? He couldn't. Not with the line up of people that really don't like him. He'll never figure out that it was _sweet, innocent, invisible little brother _Canada. He's a little too thick to comprehend that.

"Canada! Hey, can you do me a favour? Get Russia, England, Cuba and Germany into a meeting room. You have to stay too. I won't forget you're a suspect."

You will. America showed me the meeting room, and I managed to get the four other countries into a room, without being killed. Cuba and Russia were the only ones who co-operated. Germany argued that there was a room on fire (point out the obvious, eh?) and he didn't want to go back in unless the building was checked by a fire fighter. Ugh, can't people just bend to my will, and get framed for my evil plans. England, on the other hand, could care less about the recent fire, but just didn't want to be in the same room as America and Russia. I eventually got them both into the building with little white lies, like "Seychelles-chan will be there" and "The fire department will be here in a minute." England would notice, but Germany wouldn't know the difference.

America addressed us all once Cuba had sat next to me. He had a small tub of vanilla ice cream in his right hand, with a spoon poking out of it. He passed me another tub, and spoon, and, as America spoke, we ate, ignoring the beautiful chaos unwrapping before us. One thing brought my attention back to the meeting. Germany had started to yell.

"Who do you think you are to accuse us like this? You got your allies in the room, as well as... well, me and Cuba, but that's not it. Hmm, maybe you also are suspicious of your younger brother? You're out of line! You _arschloch_!"

As this carries on, America cannot figure out who did this. He's figured that the only people that could've were England, and myself. He figured it really did have a connection to the War of 1812, and Russia had his own at the time, having to deal with Napoleon, and therefore couldn't be involved. Germany... we didn't have to deal with him until World War One started. My friend, Cuba would've done a more in your face attack. It also didn't help that it was England and I against him in this particular war.

"Which one of you did it? It had to of been one of you!" America started to yell at us.

I began to cower. Sure, I'm not really that wimpy, but my brother can get scary if you get on his bad side. Japan would know, he got on America's REALLY bad side in 1945. That was... horrible.

"You wanker! You really think it was one of us? Anyone could've done it! You're being a bloody git!" England started to yell back.

"STOP FIGHTING!" I yelled. Both of them were silent. "America, I swear, you're completely dense, aren't you? I can't stand to listen to you two fight!"

"Canada... what do you mean? You couldn't have done this... I mean, you're this easy going..." England tried to get me to stop.

"No, stop trying to make it seem like I can do no wrong! I did it! I let America's precious miniature White House go up in flames! It was me, because my brother is a complete and total ass, who only cares about himself! America, _vous avez le cerveau d'un sandwich au fromage_!"

"Huh? What did you say?" America asked, getting slowly even more angry, knowing I insulted him.

I didn't answer. I stormed out of the room. I hate him! He doesn't even realize what he's done wrong!

I locked myself in my room. You could say I was being childish, but I have good reasons. It's America's fault that I'm always forgotten, and if I am noticed, it's because I look like him, and he's in trouble! He always acts like he's the only country in the world that matters. I hate that. He forgets that every country has their problems, no matter how hard they try to cover these problems up.

There was a knock at the door. Then I heard a voice. It was France's.

"Canada? Are you alright? I could hear the fight from outside. Quite the daring move, more of those and you could get many more girls wanting you."

"I don't want to talk right now." I muttered. He probably didn't hear me.

I felt hot tears roll from my eyes as France came in the room. He sat on the floor next to me, and put an arm around me shoulders. I forgot how he had always been the more 'comforting' one. He was less prone to yelling, or getting distracted by my brother than England. I pushed the side of my face against his collarbone. My glasses slid down my face, crooked. France pulled them off, and placed them on the table next to him.

"What happened? Why did you set that thing on fire?" France asked, "I wouldn't have expected you to do something like that, especially to your older brother."

"I guess," I started, "I lost my temper. He's just caused so much, and forgotten I exist, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I guess I kind of wanted to remind him... of the last time I really lost my temper. When I got tired of him stealing all of England's attention. I don't think he realizes that he's not the most important, and that he has his problems, just like every other nation."

"You know what I think?" France said, "I think that you can't live without your brother, if that's good or bad, you've got to decide. Like you said, we've all got problems, and we have to learn to deal with them, and I bet, some of his problems are worse than some of yours, or anyone else's."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, he is the world's only superpower. He has to worry more about what he does, because we're all watching for when he screws up. You must admit, you're watching too."

"I guess you're right. How are you so good at this?"

"I have my ways. I had to deal with England when he was a little kid. That taught me a lot. How about this idea; go apologize to America. He's probably hurt by what you did. I don't think either of you realize each other's feelings. I guess that's what makes you good brothers."

"Do you think England is trying to talk to America?"

"Maybe. You never know. He could be, because America is probably as upset as you. You want to go now?"

"Not yet. He may talk longer to calm down. Just sit with me for a while. I miss your company. France could you do me a favour when I go to talk to my brother?"

"What would that be?"

"Just stay with me while I talk to him. You don't have to say anything, I just don't want to be alone, in case I lose my temper."

"No problem, _mon petit frère."_

We just sat for a while, France pulling me into a hug, his arms comforting. Eventually, he helped me up, and we went to the meeting room. I could hear England speaking over heavy sobs. America was crying? I didn't think... this was too far. I should have realised that. I can't really believe what I did now, if it could make America actually cry. I hesitated before knocking on the door.

"If it's Canada, you can go die in a hole filled with snakes." America's voice shook as he said this.

"America," I began, my voice even quieter than normal. "Can I speak to you? I want to tell you something."

"No. I don't want to see you. I'm surprised you're still there. I would've expected you to burn down the real thing by now."

I wanted to run. I didn't want to face him now. I turned to run off again, to lock myself in my room again, and not let France in to convince me again. I began to move, and I felt France's arm around my elbow. I looked at him. He gave me the kind of look that screamed _if you don't talk to your brother I will not speak to you until you make things better with both America and me._ I swallowed air, but it felt like a solid block of nickel.

"England-san... please stay in there, I'd like to speak to my brother. Please... just hear me out. I want to—" I was cut off.

"DON'T BOTHER! IT WON'T BE THE TRUTH! I MAY HAVE BELIEVED YOU BEFORE YOU BURNED IT!" America screamed.

I was shaking. I looked over my shoulder, and France stared at me. I pleaded with him. "I don't want to do this." I was almost in tears.

France placed his hand on my shoulder, and squeezed it reassuringly. He said to the others behind the door, "I've spoken to Canada, I'll come in if it helps at all. America, please listen to him. He just wants to explain himself."

There was a quiet muttering behind the door. I felt like I was two feet tall. I didn't want to be here. I'd much rather be dying in a hole filled with snakes. It would be less painful than this.

England opened the door. He told us that he'd be there for America, and would not butt in. France said that he would do the same for me. I didn't think I could get through the door. My knees felt like jell-o. Jell-o would probably be stronger. I sat down next to America, whose head was in his arms. He didn't lift his head when the chair creaked as I sat down.

"Brother... America?" I could barely get the words out. My throat was tight. My words were quiet.

"What do you want?" America growled.

"I wanted to say..." I coughed. My throat was getting tighter. I was having trouble breathing. "I'm sorry. I really am... sorry."

"Like hell you are." America wasn't convinced.

"Really. I did it because... because I was tired of being forgotten, and constantly hidden in your shadow, and being ignored, and taking the blame for things you've done."

"What do you mean?"

I got my point across. I told him that the last straw had been forgetting my birthday three days ago. That I'd been hurt by Cuba because he thought I was my brother. That unless people think I'm him, I can't get a word in. He looked up after I finished.

"Whoa... I'm sorry about all that. Y'know what? I'll make it up to you. We'll celebrate together, like brothers, tonight."

I smiled. My throat kept tightening. I still felt bad about burning his miniature. I tried to apologize for burning it, but... before I could get the words out... I lost consciousness. I felt my chin hit the table as I slid from my chair. Everything was black. I heard three voices blend together. I couldn't tell who owned which voice before I was completely out cold.

It felt warm when I regained consciousness. I didn't open my eyes, but I could tell. I was in my bed, wrapped in blankets. I could breathe. My throat wasn't tight anymore. I guess I just didn't have enough oxygen flow through my body.

I opened my eyes. I was right. It was my room. Light poured through the window, the curtains half pulled. America was asleep in the chair. I didn't sit up. I didn't think it would be a good idea yet. America woke up in the chair. He looked over at me, and smiled.

"You're awake!" America practically flew out of the chair, and landed on his knees on my bed. He pulled me upright into a hug. "You scared me. You've been out cold for three days. France carried you here, and England called a paramedic, and they said to just let you rest. I thought you were in a coma. I should have called the hospital again. It was irresponsible of me. I—"

"America..." I gasped. "Let me go please... I can't breathe..."

He whipped his arms to his sides. He explained that he pushed the party to today if I was feeling up to it. I liked this turn of events. He was shaking with worry. I was still upright, and, slowly, I wrapped my arms around my brother. He stared at me with shock.

"I'm fine, America. At least, now I am. I've got the most insane, the most incredible brothers anyone could ever ask for, and I feel... cared about."

"France told me what you didn't get to say, and it's completely true. I never realised. I'm sorry."

"I've never heard you apologize before."

"I don't plan on doing it very often." He placed his hand on my head, and held me close. "You'll be the only one to ever hear me say those words. Trust me."

I did. I hope I never had to resurrect the past to remind America about who I am. I hope that the War of 1812 never has to show itself again. I never want anything to damage the relationship I have with my brothers, no matter how annoying they can get. I care for them too much.

Title: The War of 1812 in 2010

By: Janine Magilsen

Summary:

In this Axis Powers Hetalia fanfiction, Canada, the forgotten younger brother, finally loses his temper at his arrogant older brother, America. He then decides to bring up a little bit of history that makes America suspicious of quite a few people that he may not want on his bad side if they're not already there. In this story, you learn a bit more about how Canada feels about dealing with his selfish older brother, and never being noticed, unless it's because of America, as well as an inside look at America's innermost thoughts.

Translations:

Arschloch (German) – Asshole

Vous avez le cervau d'un sandwich au fromage (French) - You have the brain of a cheese sandwich

Mon petit frère (French) – My little brother


End file.
